As Alice inches closer, I prepare a spell and concentrate on the image.
Envisioning a body that never falters with monstrous strength, my right pinky fades away, leaving blood to drip on the floor from the open wound.
"Armament."
Alice doesn't seem to notice, her focus is fixated on my face.
"Say, Col," she whispers in a seductive tone, "I just wanna make you feel good, you know?"
She starts licking my cheek, with each brush becoming more aggressive.
"I just can't get enough of you."
Alice lifts her hand, putting one finger inside her mouth, and sucks it viciously.
"You have to take responsibility for this, okay?" she exclaims, walking over to the table to fetch a whip.
Raising it in the air and slashing me, each time forcing my body back and leaving my chains rattling.
She keeps at it, seeming to get more irritated after a while.
"W-why? WHY?!?" She pauses and takes a step back, staring at my body, "Why aren't you bleeding?!?"
My legs, arms, stomach, and chest, all places that she had whipped me, were completely unharmed. Not even a scratch showed.
Her facial expression gradually turned barbaric, as she slashed me with more force than she had before.
But it was no use.
Finally exhausted, her arms drooped down in front of me, still unscathed, as her grip on the whip began to loosen.
"Enough of this," my hands go in an outward motion, easily breaking the metal cuffs that have imprisoned me for weeks, dropping to the floor.
It really has been too long. I stretch my arms, finally free of the restricted position. It felt as if I was stretching my arms after awakening from a deep slumber.
Grabbing at my wrists, there was a noticeable scar from the cuffs, but healing magic would be able to fix it.
I glance down at the heavy iron cuffs shackling my ankles and grit my teeth in anger, as I force my trembling hands to pry at the cold, rusted chains, breaking them free.
Returning my gaze back to Alice, lying on the floor in pure horror. Her eyes were twitching rapidly, and her hands were quivering.
Yes.
Yes.
Yes.
Yes.
YES.
This was the sight I longed for. This entire time, I dreamt of the expression on her face as I sealed her fate with my hands, imagining it countless times. And with this power, it's easily attainable.
But it's not enough.
I need to see her truly in despair.
"N-not possible," Alice utters, her voice shaking as well, seeming to be stunned with fear.
I slowly walk towards her, as she slowly reacts, using her arms to back away from me on the ground.
"STAY AWAY FROM ME!" She throws the whip as a last attempt, acting like that would harm me.
Her back touches the door, and she attempts to reach the handle from the floor. But her legs wouldn't allow her, they wouldn't move.
Making a fist and pounding her legs in a fury, she breaks down crying.
"MOVE! MOVE, DAMN LEGS!"
Why is she acting like the victim?
She's relentlessly kept me in this room, torturing me around the clock with the only rest being when she goes to sleep.
And yet, she's here crying on the floor in front of me?
After everything she's fucking done to me?
It's unforgivable.
I crouch down and grab her, dragging her by the legs, and throw her in the spot where I was chained up.
Leveling my face with hers, I carry out what I've been yearning to do for so long.
Still in tears on the floor, Alice starts to beg for mercy, "I'm sorry. Col, I'm sorry. I'll n-never do it ever again, so let's just forget about this, okay?"
My fist starts to tighten as it digs into Alice's face, leaving her once beautiful face a bloody mess.
"How fucking shameless are you? You sit here begging for my forgiveness, asking me to just forget about it?"
I start to incorporate my legs as well, unleashing kick after kick upon her stomach and face, leaving her out of breath.
Her body, now mangled, lay there. She was still breathing, barely.
"Why'd you do it?" I ask, looking for answers.
No response. Having no other action than just raggedly breathing.
I grab her by her hair, lifting her body and putting her face directly in front of mine.
"Hey. Bitch. Why'd you do it? Huh?"
She was barely conscious.
This won't do.
I drop her aggressively, as she plummets to the floor, not moving. Moving to the table filled with tools, I grab a large sword and make my way back to Alice's body.
Hoisting the massive sword into the air, I bring it down, striking at her legs, cutting them, and separating them from her body.
A scream tears from her throat, raw and piercing, echoing with such agony it seems to shake the very air around her.
Carrying the legs and putting them near her body, I begin.
Picturing an injured rabbit as it becomes fully mended, I put my palms out to Alice's head.
Healing.
The same green glow appears and surrounds her body, bringing her disfigured body, slowly back to normal.
However, her legs did not grow back, and the open wound from it closed up.
I grab her by the hair one more time, raising my fist in the air.
"I'll ask you again. Why did you do this to me?"
She coughs, "Please, let me g-go. I'm sorry." More tears start to roll down her cheeks.
My fist connected with her face once more, the impact hurling her backward until she crashed against the wall. A sickening crack echoed as her nose broke, blood streaming down her face.
I let out a deep sigh, followed by an angry breath.
I charge toward her fallen body and drive my foot into her face with brutal force, the impact distorting her features until they're no longer recognizable.
Body still on the floor, she's once again barely conscious.
I go through the same process, cutting her left arm, and healing her body with it.
I've run out of patience.
"ANSWER ME!" I shout, anger surging in my chest like fire. "Why did you do this?" The question trembles on my lips, burning for the truth.
"H-he," she starts to speak. She hesitates once more and ultimately goes silent.
"Hey. Bitch," I take my knee and drive it into her stomach, which forces her to vomit. "Finish what you were saying."
Her body lies motionless on the floor, head tilted to the side, blood trickling from her lips. Yet somehow, she finds her voice again—fragile, broken. "H-h-he... i-instructed me t-to."
'He?'
Who the fuck is she talking about?
"Who told you?" I asked, my voice a low, dangerous whisper. I didn't need to shout—the darkness in my tone said enough. Someone had orchestrated this, and I intended to return the favor, piece by piece.
"E-e—" she stammers, but the word dies in her throat. A piercing scream rips from her lips as she writhes on the floor, clutching at her neck with a trembling hand, eyes wide with terror and pain.
What the fuck is going on?
"Alice! Hey!" I shout, a wave of confusion and dread washing over me as I watch her convulse on the floor, her hand clawing at her neck. I had no idea what was happening—only that something was horribly wrong.
And suddenly, she stopped.
Her hand and body remained frozen in place, locked in a rigid, unnatural stillness as if time itself had seized her mid-motion.
"You fucking tramp, what was all that?"
I approach slowly, only to find her body still and cold, her eyes wide and unblinking, mouth slightly open in a silent scream—her final expression etched with pure, unrelenting terror.
You've got to be fucking kidding me.
"No."
"No."
"No."
"No."
"NO!" I screamed, rage boiling over. "She was supposed to suffer—truly suffer. I waited, I endured 62 days in this torment, counting every second. And she just slips away? Ten minutes of pain and then peace?"
I slam my fist into the wall with all the force of my rage, the impact shattering the surface. Cracks spiderweb out from the hole, widening until the entire section collapses in a thunderous crash, exposing the room on the other side.
The heavy metal door burst open without warning, slamming against the wall. Bartoslav stepped into the room, his face twisting in disbelief as his gaze swept over the destruction—his shock palpable in the silence that followed.
I turn to him slowly, my eyes bloodshot and blazing with fury, the kind of rage that promises no mercy.
I picture lightning, its terrifying speed and electric crackle echoing in my mind, its violent force crackling like a living thing. I focus, drawing the storm into my legs as I prepare to channel its fury into my next spell.
Armament.
Three more fingers tore off my right hand, blood dripping from the wounds before they vanished into thin air.
Bartoslav, his mind racing to make sense of the carnage, yanked a cleaver from his belt, the blade gleaming with deadly intent as he snarled, "YOU FUCKING BRA—"
I surge forward with blinding speed, faster than lightning itself, my hand locking around his skull. The force of my movement rips his head from his shoulders, the sickening sound of it detaching reverberating through the air. His lifeless body crumples to the floor, a crimson pool spreading beneath it.
Staring at the severed head in my grasp, I feel no emotion. With a casual flick of my wrist, I toss it aside, indifferent to the carnage I've wrought.
The door creaks open, and I step out into the darkness of the underground hallway, the weight of 62 days of confinement still pressing on me. The air smells stale, yet I breathe it in greedily. My first steps outside that hellish room feel alien, the cold stone floor beneath me grounding me to this new, eerie reality.
It seems that I was kept underground somewhere.
I stumble through the darkness, my eyes searching for anything that might shield me from the world I'm stepping into. In the corner, a black cloak, tattered, worn, waits like an old ghost. Beside it, dark boots, cracked and stiff. I slip them on, feeling the weight of the cloak settle around me like a funeral shroud, the cold leather of the boots a cruel reminder of how far I've fallen.
I move cautiously through the suffocating darkness, my eyes adjusting to the horrors that unfold before me. I stumble upon room after room, each one worse than the last—mangled corpses, their bodies hacked and mutilated in grotesque ways. A wooden table stands in the center of one room, a lone chair beside it, utensils carelessly abandoned. On the plate, still steaming, lies a piece of human flesh—half-eaten. The sickening realization hits me.
These two were cannibals.
I shudder and push forward, my body trembling with the relief of having narrowly escaped a fate far worse than death itself.
After what feels like an eternity of aimless wandering, I finally stumble upon a staircase, the cold stone beneath my feet heavy with the weight of the past. With each step, a strange, detached calm settles over me, as though the world outside no longer mattered. I reach the top, where a trapdoor awaits—its surface slick with age and secrecy. My hands grasp the cold metal, pushing it open with a creak that echoes in the silence. Moonlight pours in, blinding at first, revealing a long, desolate street lined with crumbling clay houses. I step out, the cool air biting my skin, and breathe in the freedom I've longed for—yet, even now, I can't shake the gnawing feeling that my escape may be more of a beginning than an end.
I breathe in deeply, relishing the freedom that's mine at last, but beneath it, something darker lingers. Something I can't quite place.
I step forward, returning to a world that feels colder and more hostile than before. The night wraps around me like a shroud, the darkness thick with promises of pain and suffering. My footsteps echo in the silence, and I can't help but wonder if this freedom is truly what I imagined—or if I've simply traded one kind of torment for another...
As I make my way through the cold, dark night.